Leftovers
by jublke
Summary: Why does Ryan Wolfe's weight fluctuate so much? Calleigh discovers his secret. Set between seasons 7 and 8. One-shot for now. Rated T on the cautious side.


Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading. Any remaining errors are mine. One-shot for now.

* * *

Ryan Wolfe leaned against the lab table and sighed. He was tired of processing evidence, so weary that his hands had begun to shake. Ever since he'd been tortured by the Russians, he had trouble pulling double shifts. He wasn't sure if that was due to the fact that he wasn't sleeping well or if it was because he hadn't been eating well either. Months of binging on comfort food had led to weight gain, and now Ryan was very conscious of his increased girth. It didn't help any that Delko teased him about it; things had become so heated between the two men that H had recently separated them and kept them working on different cases.

A soft clearing of the throat caught his attention and Ryan jolted upright. Calleigh eyed him curiously from the doorway, a touch of concern magnifying her southern drawl. "You okay, Ryan?"

The younger man blinked his eyes. "Uh ... yeah. I'm fine." The words were spoken without any weight or conviction.

"Why don't you set that aside and come to dinner with me?" Calleigh's voice held a touch of determination as she approached him.

"I already ate." He wouldn't - couldn't - look in her direction.

She frowned. "Ryan, you haven't eaten a thing since you got here."

Startled, he looked up then. "Yes, I have."

"No, you haven't."

"What, you've been monitoring my food intake?" He narrowed his eyes and gave her his best skeptical look.

She didn't react. "Actually, I have been. So, we both know you're lying." As his eyes darted about the room in a panic, she folded her arms. "Ryan, what's going on?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, bolting for the door. She blocked his exit. "I'm not hungry," he replied, dejected, staring at his shoes.

At her silence, he raised his hazel eyes to meet her green ones.

"You're scaring me," she said, softly. "And I don't scare easily." He looked away, and she placed both of her hands on his folded arms. "We need to talk, Ryan. Come eat with me."

* * *

The Italian restaurant that Calleigh chose was a family-owned diner a short walk from the crime lab. Ryan said little on the way to the eatery, allowing Calleigh to fill the night air with random chatter about the weather, their caseload, and the upcoming holidays. Ryan suspected that she would have been just as animated talking to a brick wall.

She waited until the waiter had brought them water and salads before she resumed her previous line of questioning. "So, why aren't you eating?"

He shrugged, and chewed a single forkful of salad before pushing away the plate. "I already told you, I'm not hungry." Standing up across from her in the small booth, he added, "I really should be getting back. Horatio-"

"-knows exactly where we are and is just as concerned about you as I am, Ryan. Sit down." Calleigh didn't often wield her authority as second-in-command, but she was exercising her power now. Ryan knew that if he left, she would just corner him again.

He sighed and sat back down across from her. "I'm trying to lose weight," he admitted.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "Ryan, you aren't dieting. You're starving yourself! I haven't seen you eat anything at work in the last three weeks."

"You've been watching me eat?"

"Watching you not eat is more like it. Everybody at the lab's noticed."

He dropped his head into his hands. "Could this day get any worse?" he muttered.

She reached across the table to touch his arm. "Hey." When he lifted his gaze, she continued. "You can talk to me." Her smile was genuine - warm and loving - and Ryan felt his body posture start to relax.

"Every time I eat at work, Delko reminds me of how fat I am," Ryan admitted. "I got tired of hearing about it."

"So, you quit eating?" Calleigh patted his arm and then stabbed another lettuce leaf. She encouraged Ryan to do the same.

He nodded and politely ate another bite of salad to appease her. "When I was growing up, my father-" he flinched as he said the word, "always told me what a disappointment I was." Ryan rubbed the edge of his watch in a rhythmic fashion. He intoned, "'No son of mine is gonna grow up to be a fat, neurotic loser.'" Ryan's hazel eyes grew misty. "And then, he ..."

"And then he what?" Calleigh's voice was gentle.

"And then, he ..." As Ryan's mind raced forward, he took a sip of water. Trying to calm down, he began to count the croutons on his salad.

"Ryan?" Calleigh startled him back into the conversation.

"And then he'd lock me in the closet without dinner," Ryan blurted out, before looking away, ashamed. The room appeared to be growing brighter and darker, and Ryan knew that this altered sense of perception was a warning from his body that he was very close to having a panic attack. He needed to get out of this restaurant, away from the food. He couldn't let anyone watch him eat. As he began to rock back and forth, a waiter approached with their pasta, but Calleigh shooed him away before he could unload the plates.

"Oh, Ryan. I'm so sorry," the blond soothed once the waiter was out of earshot.

He nodded. "I'm really not hungry, Calleigh. I'd like to head back to the lab now."

"Sure." She flagged down their server. "Can we get this to go?"

* * *

Ryan avoided Calleigh for the rest of their shift. When she came by to tell him goodnight, he felt an immense sense of relief. The second after the elevator doors had closed, he rushed to the break room, stomach rumbling. As expected, he found their untouched pasta in two take-away containers in the refrigerator. Calleigh had even brought back a loaf of bread and their salads.

Sitting at the break table, he tore into the food, eating so quickly that he barely tasted anything. After he had polished off his meal and the loaf of bread, he walked back to the refrigerator, eying Calleigh's salad and pasta. _The salad won't be good tomorrow anyway_ , he rationalized. Five minutes later, with the second salad devoured, he stood at the refrigerator again, staring longingly at Calleigh's pasta.

 _This is ridiculous_ , he told himself. _I have food at home. If I'm still hungry after work, I can eat then._ Yet, he couldn't leave the dish behind. _It's not like Calleigh will mind,_ he told himself. _She'll just be glad I'm eating something._

He sat back at the break table, surrounded by empty food containers, and opened Calleigh's dish. Even now, hours since it had been prepared, the pasta smelled heavenly. He was three bites into the food when the door to the break room opened.

Ryan froze with a forkful of noodles halfway to his mouth. Calleigh stared back at him, her mouth a perfect "o" of surprise.

"Ryan," she said finally. "I came back for ..." As her eyes landed on the remnants of her dinner, Ryan felt his stomach turn. He dropped the fork.

"Calleigh," he choked out. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be back." He could feel his heartbeat increase and he was beset by memories of his father catching him with sweets after bedtime. He put a hand to his eyes. Was it getting darker in the break room?

"I'm sorry," he whispered, moving toward the door.

She caught his arm; he flinched at the touch. "Ryan. Ryan, look at me."

Turning toward her, he looked down into her wide eyes, warm and green and calming. He took a deep breath as she smiled. "I'm not mad at you." Still holding his arm, she guided him over to the sofa and pulled him down so that he was seated next to her. She grasped both of his hands. "But I am really worried about you. The way you're acting around food isn't normal."

He pulled a hand away to wipe his eyes. "I know," he whispered.

"When did all of this start?"

"When I was ten," he answered, surprising both of them with his honesty. "My father ..." Ryan shuddered. "I didn't learn to eat right until I left home. I joined Overeaters Anonymous for a few years in college. I thought ..." he paused to look her in the eye, "I thought I was past this," he admitted unhappily.

She continued to hold his hand in both of hers. "When did it start up again?" He gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Ryan, you need to talk about this. If not with me, then with someone else."

He sighed. "Remember that case we worked a few months back? The one with the dad locking his kids in the garage?"

She nodded. "I remember."

"I ... I haven't slept well since ... since the Russians ... and I ..." He licked his lips reflexively and she walked to the sink, grabbed a mug, and poured him a cup of water.

He took it gratefully. "Thanks." Calleigh sat down beside him and rubbed small, soothing circles on his back. He relaxed into her touch. "That feels nice."

Her blond hair fell across her eyes as she leaned in closer to him. "So, you haven't been sleeping well?"

He shook his head, set the mug aside, and placed his hands between his knees. "I guess I wasn't eating well either. Stress eating. I hadn't really noticed until Delko started making comments about my weight." He stared past her at the wall. "And then we got that case." He shuddered and she pulled him into her arms.

"I am so sorry, Ryan," she soothed.

After a few minutes of comfort, he pulled away and wiped his eyes. "The way that father acted reminded me of my father and the things he did to me. He was always after me about my weight. And then, Eric started commenting on it too and ... I don't know. Food just didn't feel safe anymore. I don't want to eat around other people. I feel like everyone's watching me."

Her smile was sad. "Ryan, the less you eat, the more people are watching you. We've all been really worried about you." She grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it as she continued. "You need to talk to someone about this."

He nodded. "I've been thinking about going back to OA. That really helped me before."

"I think that's a great start, Ryan." She caught his eyes. "But you need to talk to someone about the trauma you've experienced, too. You've been through an awful lot with your family and ..." She swallowed. "I'm so sorry we weren't there for you when you were kidnapped."

He nodded again. "I've had a hard time talking about it with the departmental psychologist. I still go in every other week but I don't get much out of it. She doesn't really understand."

Calleigh sighed and closed her eyes. "I know." She sniffed, loudly enough that Ryan noticed.

He stared at her and touched her shoulder. "Do you still have nightmares?"

Biting her lip, she nodded. "Sometimes." The eyes she turned to him were a watery green sea. She swiped a hand across her face. "I'm sorry, Ryan. We were talking about you." She laughed uneasily.

He pulled her close to him, one arm wrapped protectively around her. "What if I told you that it was helping me to know I'm not alone?"

She placed her head on his shoulder. "Then I'd say, maybe we should get together once in awhile and talk about it." She laughed, a genuine sound of relief. "I love Eric, but he's not the easiest to talk to about this stuff."

He poked her in the ribs and raised his eyebrows. "You lo-o-ove Delko," he teased, stretching out the word.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know what I mean. He can be so clueless sometimes."

Ryan nodded. "Tell me about it."

"Can I ask him to knock it off about your weight? If he knew what was going on, Ryan, he'd stop bugging you."

The brunette sighed. "Calleigh, this is hard enough for me to share with you. I don't need Delko coming after me with a guilty conscience."

"I'll give him the briefest of explanations and tell him you don't want to talk about it, okay?"

He shrugged. "All right." Catching her eyes, he added, "Thank you, Calleigh."

She leaned back into his arms. "Anytime, Ryan."


End file.
